


A Bittersweet Wager

by NowhereNihlus



Category: Neopets
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Benny the Blade - Freeform, I havent been here in so long what do I even tag this as?, Jacques the swift - Freeform, M/M, Neopets - Freeform, Pirates, handjob, public
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:06:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24582778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NowhereNihlus/pseuds/NowhereNihlus
Summary: It was one thing if you were to come across your enemy on the open seas, betting, gambling and wagering your life for the sake of keeping your title. But what happens if one night they were the ones to approach you and propose a wager that you in a million years never thought to take part of.Jacques' title as being The Swift was on the line, and if it wasn't, this was a really sick joke.
Relationships: Benny/Jacques, Jacques the Swift/Benny the Blade
Comments: 1





	A Bittersweet Wager

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, we got a Neopets story this time! 
> 
> A few years ago I had posted a story on my Tumblr involving what me and my sister's friend argued to be the rarest ship on Krawk Island (see what I did there?). The ship: Benny the Blade and Jacques the Swift. 
> 
> My sister's friend was the first one to make a jab at me saying that GarinxScarblade was truly the rare pair, and my counter was this beautiful story--the problem is, when the whole tumblrpocalypse thing happened, there went my side blog and that very story. I've been meaning to post more writing on the internet again and this time my sister and a few friends were curious to see what this was all about so I proudly announce the remake of that BennyXJacques story. This time with an actual working plot. 
> 
> Also, a big thanks to SeaCat for helping me with the title. Titles are the stain on my existence.....enjoy!
> 
> \-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

The night was finally slowing down to its end. 

From the dawn’s early morning light Jacques had been up on his feet running around, carrying his own duties as the first mate of The Black Pawkeet’s Crew. It wasn’t all just gold and glory when it came to being the first mate of a renowned pirate crew, absolutely not, it would take skill and a good head on your shoulders so that you can help balance the chaos and make sure that your dear friends don’t kill each other accidentally over a lost bet in Petpet Cannonball. Jacques took very careful care in counting the rations of supplies for their planned but very short plunder for that day, checking the canons were all cleaned, the weapons all spruced up, the crew at attention, and finally Garin actually being on board. (Yes, they had accidentally left their captain onshore once...or twice. So they made sure that he was on board this time.)

Charting the seas was a second language to him, taking into account the change in the cool and warm winds with the coming of Fall as they were at sea. Jacques made careful attention to the horizons while they stalked a poor vessel, a civilian ship but a very nice one. The act was fast, clean, painless. Well, painless for them at least, not so much the captain of the other ship who was hauling around a hundred or so far wealthier pets than themselves. Luckily for them the royal pets on this luxurious cruise did not want to risk their poor gloved hands getting dirty in defending themselves so did the viable thing of giving up everything on them, one poor bastard even gave up his royal purple fur-trimmed coat in exchange that Garin and his crew don’t harm a measly hair on his head. 

Sure thing Jack, thanks for the coat. Oh, and the rings, and the necklace--was that a locket with your mother’s portrait? My, she looks like a nice woman, send her the Black Pawkeet’s regards. 

  
  


A mere catch of the southern winds and the crew was gone before the Krawk Island Navy could even get a whiff of the theft; they were home free to count their winnings and admire their newfound collection. All before dinner at that! Time for a celebration! Jacques insisted to Garin that celebrating so soon after a haul was a bad idea, they would surely get drunk before the end of the night, and once that cabin door was open--oh boy. Garin took no offense or warning to it, grabbing his dear mate by the shoulders and gesturing to the crew who was already beginning to party on their deck. What would they think if they had to cut their celebration early? They had found an easy haul, there was no way they could not celebrate their accomplishments, and besides, if they were to be thrown in jail what’s the worst that could happen? They bust out? 

Ugh, the mention of jails and cells made Jacque’s head hurt but in just the faintest memory of being captured, he mumbled out a short ‘fine’ insisting that the crew could have two drinks on land and if they wanted to continue their festivities then they could come back to the ship and drink their fill onboard. The crew was all for that, hobbling off the boat and hurrying to their usual tavern on the short end of the street, the small one at the very tip of Krawk Island’s docks, the door handle was nearly crusted with sea salt scum that was how close it was to the water. Though, the inside of the bar and Inn combo inside definitely made up what it lacked visually on the outside. The floors were wooden, the walls painted and primed with white cloth that gave it a vintage look with its cherry wooden beams, the bar was also made with cherry wood with lanterns hanging above it to show off it’s magnificent looking liquors collection behind the tavern owner. Though it was dark and musty with the stench of patrons drinking for hours at a time, the two chandeliers that hung from the high ceiling gave the atmosphere a beautiful dull glow, swinging side to side ever so gently when a patron on the second floor was moving around quite...uh, quickly. Those doors on the second floor adorned with red lamps and hung hats so that other customers should know better to knock first before anything else. At least the banging coming from those rooms were quickly droned out with sounds from the live band that was off on the corner of the tavern, playing cheerfully by the staircase as well so that the leaving and satisfied customer from upstairs could feel a little more generous and toss a coin or two into their cap at their feet. Oh yes, this was the normal celebrating spot for the Black Pawkeet’s crew. Sure the food wasn’t as good as mum’s and the girls who frequent the place probably dressed more modestly going to bed than walking down across the bar but after a haul, this place felt like home. 

Jacques had lost count just how many glasses of grog and rum his mates had all drunk, he himself only had one, he couldn’t risk getting distracted and letting any of his poor friends getting whisked away by a lady upstairs. Nope, someone had to keep his friends and these tavern girls in line. Luckily for him, nearly all of his crewmates ended up leaving to continue the party back at the ship and Garin was on his best behavior. Surprisingly. Actually, it looked like he was adoring the attention of a few of the girls of the tavern as they hung onto his shoulders or leaned against his arm. Garin was taking the time showing the girls knife tricks he's learned and other little magic tricks involving ‘disappearing doubloons’ that mysteriously appeared in one of the women's bodices, or the grog magically refilling itself just by him whistling into his glass. Oh Garin, he made himself look so charming--on purpose! Jacques knew it was on purpose as well when Garin made dissatisfied look at his second glass upon realizing that it was empty, loudly sighing and saying with an ‘oh so heavy heart’ that he had to retreat back to the ship. He insisted to the poor girls that he would see them again, no, no don’t cry for him! He’ll definitely return, maybe another night they could have some fun but a Captain’s duty was never truly finished, he had a ship and the sea to return to. Just what was it that he was trying to do? He nor the world will never know.

“Are you sure you’re so hesitant to go?” Jacques asked Garin, he watched in pure disbelief as his friend tossed some coins on the table, told the girls to ‘play nice’, and leave them to fight for their tip. Five or six women ripping and tearing into each other like petpets during a famine for the last piece of bread. “It looks to me that you wanted to stay with them a little longer.” 

“Hardly.” Garin answers with a small laugh, fixing his shirt collar with an audible gulp as he watched the savagery continue at his table. “Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful for your curfew Jackie.” He eyes his first mate’s glass to see that it still wasn’t even half-way, taking his sweet time? Possibly to get some fresh air--er, sort of fresh air--to unwind and forget about his usual duties at the ship. “Are ya going to take long?” 

“Aye, I might.” Jacques answers slowly, leaning far enough so that his chair’s backrest pressed against the wall of the establishment. He’s taking his sweet time in admiring the band playing their modernized twists of old sea shanties along with eavesdropping on the conversation between the men at another table, all playing the game of  _ Cheat! _ and betting just about everything they own on the cards in their hands. There was nothing quite like the bar life, sometimes at times like these, he didn’t even want to leave. Seeing just how comfortable his dear friend was Garin instead nodded his head with a smile, patting Jacques on the shoulder a few times before pointing to the door with his thumb. 

“If you need me---scream.” 

“Aye, aye, captain.” he states with a loud laugh, a shameful shake of his head when he watched Garin head for the door. Throwing one last wink to the ladies who seemingly settled the differences between them and then waving to the tavern owner who was gratefully counting a few pieces of treasure that the crew had dropped by in exchange for paying their drinks. The night was still young, now unwinding, Jacques was now alone finally to do whatever it was he wanted. Sure, he loved his childhood friend, he loved his crewmates, he loved being around them but sometimes solitude was his prize. Especially after a few hours, days, weeks, months at sea. He loved the sea, but he also loved being on land and his legs not feeling like old jello whenever he took a step. 

First order of his new solitude business: he was going to order something to eat, some soups and chips should do the trick, next: he was free to record his journals. He carried two books on him everywhere, since his dreaded time with the Drench and being in their horrific care, he always took the time to jot down whatever was in his mind, whatever Garin and the crew were doing, whatever he was doing. It was therapeutic to say the least, and he was covering his tracks to say the most. Well, ‘tracks’ but he thought of one day settling down somewhere, he’d ‘accidentally’ leave these old journals somewhere hidden for some kids to find and inspire them to build an alliance, search for treasure, achieve great feats and travel the world with lifelong friends alongside them. That was the dream at least, and there was no better time in writing down his thoughts or qualms than being alone in the tavern. 

The tavern’s keeper was already on his way taking care of Jacques’ order, the band was off on the side beginning a new song and the girls were all off in different directions trying to rope in another poor man with coins in his trousers to lure him upstairs. Jacques was in the middle of the pages, graphite flying across the journal’s face as he wrote details of the day when he heard the music begin to slow to a stop, which was strange since the song had just begun. The strong smell of sea salt hitting his nose and the refreshing breeze from the sea brushing against his long red mane was accompanied by the large groaning creak of the heavy wooden door of the tavern. The conversations he partially listened to as he wrote all silenced to whispers and even the tavern girls were all trying to hide into the darker corners of the place. Jacques looked over at the corner of his eye to see who would have caused such a standstill when he saw a small purple blur ducking in between the tables and chairs, looking for a solitary space to call as a seat when he finally catches their features walking across the bar. 

It was Benny the Blade, the purple Bruce and First Officer of Scarblade’s crew. 

What the hell was he doing here? Jacques took another quick peek over his shoulder to the window placed behind his head, he didn’t see the rest of the crew nor did he see the devil dog himself outside. The ghastly features of The Revenge was nowhere in sight, the ports looked clear and calm just as when his crew came in. That meant that Benny was by himself, didn’t it? Jacques was in the middle of balancing the odds in his head, he could stay and try to remain hidden or he could leave, risk getting caught, or hauling ass fast enough that he could reach the safety of The Black Pawkeet. Unfortunately for the first mate, he was so preoccupied in his thoughts of escape that he didn’t fully realize that Benny indeed saw him from across the way, slithering, bobbing, weaving in between stools and empty tables until he was close enough behind Jacques to draw out his blade slowly from his maroon sash. 

Jacques couldn’t help the harsh intake of breath that he drew when a tip of a sharp clean blade pinned his sleeve to the wooden tabletop, Benny the Blade was there, leaning against the wall so that it gave the appearance of him leaning over where he sat. His beak bearing a smug and dark grin, 

“Evenin’ redhead, fancy seein’ ya around here. Alone.” Benny states slowly, taking a peek around as if to rub it in that he was but a one-man crew at the moment. Though Jacques didn’t even bother in removing his gaze from him--and his pointy friend that kept his arm in place--he did notice that the conversations at the other tables were slowly picking up again, the band starting the song back from the beginning and even the tavern keeper was continuing on with preparing the food. Albeit, a little more quickly and definitely avoiding eye contact with his very table. It was as if the world just noticed the gravity of the situation and turned a blind eye saying: ‘screw it, that’s your problem now’. Lovely. 

Even though Jacques was still glaring upwards at this Purple Bruce, staring at him right in his cold steel eyes and giving small hopeful tugs at his wrist in the chance that his sleeve would become free he remained silent. He didn’t comment, he didn’t look around in a desperate attempt to escape, sure Benny was ruthless as his blades were sharp, but that didn’t mean that it would be impossible to fight him off. It seems as though his attempts to free himself, his valiant silence, and his unwavering glare didn’t quite give Benny the satisfaction that he was hoping for because the Bruce just cursed to himself under his breath and stood straight up again. With a quick and smooth flick to the blade’s handle, Jacques was freed from the table, a clean doubloon sized hole left on his sleeve from his short struggle and Benny’s sharp blade but other than that his arm was fine. “Yur no fun, redhead.” 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jacques asked, taking yet another peek over his shoulder just in case this was a diversion but no, no one was outside, not even a Naval guard. “Where’s the rest of your jockeys?” 

“At the ship, where else?” Benny answered back coldly as he took the empty chair from beside the table to pull in and sit right beside Jacques, the surprised expression on the young first mate’s face was absolutely priceless, it made him wish he was an artist so he can recapture this moment on paper and keep it in a frame. “Relax, ‘m alone and unarmed...mostly.” 

“That doesn’t look unarmed to me.” Jacques hissed, his eyes going back to Benny’s trusted blade as the man twirls it effortlessly around his fingers. He sees the tavern keeper coming up to his table with the small plate and bowl, aha! Maybe he could scrawl a note or something and hand it over so that he could send someone to call Garin for help, that could work. So he hurriedly takes out his journal, about to start writing his message when the old man nearly tosses his plate and bowl on the table, then turns on his heel all in the same second. It was quite commendable, he’s never seen someone turn so fast in his life and you could almost feel the very breeze which he left behind in a hurry. He didn’t even leave the bowl and chips near the middle of the table he was moving so fast, leaving his meal across from him on the very table’s edge. The first mate sighed to no one but himself, well, so much for that plan. It was when Jacques was in the middle of leaning over to grab his food when he realized that Benny was staring at him the whole time, leaning with his arm over the back of his chair’s rest, uh, this was kind of weird. “What do you want, Benjamin?” 

“Who da hell is Benjamin?” Benny laughs, throwing his head back in the fit of laughter loud enough to make the tavern keeper hurry his round self even faster to the other side of the bar--the side furthest away from him and more so closer to the live band. The very same band which decided to play a little louder than usual. He watches with little fits of chuckles as Jacques slowly sits back in his seat, eyeing him curiously as he grabs a tortilla chip from the plate and swirls it around slowly in the thickened soup, not breaking eye contact even once as he picks up the serving and brings it to his mouth. “Tha’s cute redhead, tha’s real cute.” with a few more chuckles Benny is eyeing his blade in his hand, twirling it in between his fingers so skillfully it was as if the thing was made of feathers. “What do _ I _ want? To get the hell away from my ship.”

“And why sit next to me? Your sworn enemy?” 

“Yur not my enemy, yur my capt’n’s enemy.” Benny specified, rather quickly, under a single breath as the knife he was twirling around stopped in his grasp at the same time so that he could point the tip at Jacques’ direction. Benny’s pale-colored eyes watching him closely. “B’lieve me, if ya were  _ my  _ enemy, you’d be dead by now.” Jacques didn’t know if that was something that he should be relieved or...suspicious. Sure it wasn’t every day that someone from an enemy crew would mention that they weren’t exactly enemies, though it was hard to determine if he should feel relieved knowing that Benny was not in any hurry to kill him either. “Don’ think ‘bout it too hard. You’ll hurt yur pretty lil head.” The Bruce says cooly, after what felt like a mere awkward few minutes of silence lingered between them. Was he--? No, no that’s impossible, he wasn’t flirting with him, he was just saying shit to get under his skin. Obviously. Exactly that, though the thought of that reassurance didn’t really stop the heat from traveling to Jacque’s face as he kept observing Benny as closely as possible. 

“And...what about my captain?” 

“I’d wish him dead, but I don’ wanna dirty my blades n’ him either.” Benny explains, now rolling his eyes as he leaned back more in his seat and tosses the blade up in the air, then catches it in his palm by the handle. “I hate yur capt’n, but not ‘cause he did somethin’ t’me. But ‘cause  _ my  _ capt’n doesn’ shut up about him on deck.” he states, almost angrily, he slams his own blade down onto the table face and jabs a finger in Jacques’ direction, the poor first mate watching on with surprise and horror in his eyes. “Ya have no idea how n‘furiatin’ it is! Ov’r n’ ov’r---Garin, Garin, Garin...fur Fyora’s sakes he makes it sound as though he got nothin’ but Garin on the mind on the hour! Fuckin’ hell’s fire if he coul’ stop yellin’ ‘bout the damn Usul fur ten fuckin’ minutes I’d die in peace.” The Bruce finishes his rant off in a low sad sounding sigh, slinking back into his seat, burying his face in his hands as he groans and mumbles something under his breath in some intangible nonsense. Jacques is at a loss of words to put it nicely. He had no idea just how bad this guy had it, well, he could only imagine how bad it is for someone like Benny and other members of Scarblade’s crew to listen to a loop of rants made about the young Captain. It sounds like Benny was a loyal enough mate if he was putting up with it and suffering in silence. Jacques takes another chip from his plate, dunking it into the soup and plopping it into his mouth before he slowly slides the bowl over towards the suffering Bruce. 

“That’s rough buddy.” he manages to comment, what else could he say? Sorry that your captain is obsessed with mine and you’re forced to come after us? Fortunately, it looked like that Benny took the offer of soup and chips, grabbing a sad-looking lonely tortilla from the edge of the plate and giving it a quick dip into the soup as well. “I hope the pay is worth it.” Jacques manages to joke, getting a short scoff from the darker looking pirate. 

“Don’ ev’n get me started.” Benny growls, he makes a face when he plops the chip into his beak though Jacques isn’t sure if it was because he was thinking about the state of his cut when it comes to treasure or he was still thinking about the fact he still has to return to Scarblade’s crew after this. Or maybe the soup wasn’t that good after all. “Redhead?” 

“I have a name you know.” Jacques answers plainly but it’s obvious by the roll of Benny’s eyes that his comment was going to go unheard. 

“How close woul’ ya say yous n’ yur capt’n is?” Well, that was a very strange question, but telling from the still relaxed pose and the way that Benny’s gaze remained on him when he asked the question...this guy was serious. A hundred different scenarios played in Jacques’ head, he wondered if he should be honest with this guy or not but...he didn’t really have anything to hide either. He and Garin were friends, childhood friends, best friends. There was nothing--well, almost nothing--that Garin would do that would immediately piss him off and call it quits on sailing with him. It came close with a few pranks here and there, but the feeling of ‘dammit, Garin will always be like this’ would come rolling in and he’d end up forgiving his dumb ass lovable friend. Jacques shrugs his shoulder, grabbing his glass and taking a look into the amber-colored liquid solemnly. 

“Very close I like to think, we’d been best friends since we were kids. We’d do anything for each other.” he answers slowly, taking a peek over at Benny at the corner of his eye and he sees something akin to relief on the Bruce’s brow. Why did he ask? Why was he so interested? “I’m afraid to ask about you and your captain, with the likes of him and all.” 

“Ya wouldn’ believe me.” 

“Aye? Try me.” Benny scowls at the proposition, lightly smacking Jacques’ hand away from his own glass of grog so that he could grab the pint, lifting it’s bottom high above his head as he chugs the last half of it himself. Well, so much for finishing his first drink, at least he could order another one before calling it his ‘curfew’ and heading back...if he was allowed to leave this conversation. Benny sighs, taking an unsatisfying look at the now empty glass and shaking his head slowly, shamefully, his shoulders bouncing when he chuckles. 

“He an’ I...use’ta see each other. In his cabin.” the Bruce began slowly, he lifted a hand to stop Jacques when the first mate couldn’t help but gasp aloud. Benny and Captain Scarblade--together? “He’s damn charmin’ when he wants t’be. I’ll give ya tha’.” he says with a few more soft chuckles, “An’ damn well convincin’. I though’ he’d actually like a bloke like me, sad ey?  _ La douleur exquise. _ ” he whispers, and shakes his head again, this time trying to avoid Jacques’ gaze by looking off to the side and pretending that the empty table beside them looked more interesting. “I think, redhead, tha’ he’s taken a shine t’yur capt’n.” 

“To  **_Garin_ ** ?” Jacques nearly squeaks, he can’t even be mad at Benny’s fits of laughter when his voice cracks in horror but….Captain Scarblade wanting to be close to Garin? No. No, no, no, no there’s no way in the seven seas that Captain Scarblade of all people would try to capture Garin just for the sake of getting into bed with him, absolutely not. He wanted to kill them! To surrender, to destroy everything they had! Benny is still watching Jacques with a grin on his face as the young Kyrii just continues to sit there, his eyes widened with horror and his expression proving that, yes, the gears were in fact turning in his head at the mere thought. 

You know? It wasn't impossible to think of it as an option.

Well, he did ask Garin to join his crew--not ask, it was more like giving their crew an ultimatum, back when they had first met--and it wasn’t uncommon for larger pirate captains to take ships, hostage, in hopes that they would join their fleet and expand their crew. But, if for whatever reason they had said yes and joined the Revenge...what would have become of them? Of Maraqua? Would Scarblade have been successful in taking Garin into his bed just as he did with Benny? That made Jacques think, even more, was Benny not the only man that Scarblade had brought to bed with him? “You…” the first mate began, unsure how to bring it up, now it was his turn to avoid his gaze as Benny was still watching him with that tired drawl to his eyes. “You...uh...not that I’m accusing you of anything but...if you’re not the first guy Scarblade has ‘convinced’ into bed...you don’t have the clap or anything like that then?” 

  
  
  


“No.” Benny states, his glance narrowing. “‘M clean.'' Almost as soon as the words had fallen from his mouth the threatened stare and the dark expression on his face lightened, then turned a little smug as he leaned over to rest on the space in between them, closing the distance. “Unless yur askin’ ‘cause o’other reasons,  _ mon choute _ .” As suave as those words sounded, Jacques honestly had no idea what Benny was saying. That was Brightvailian or something, right? Damn, if only he had paid attention more in class when they covered the basics of the language. Also that grin on Benny’s beak, the mischievous glint in his eyes when he stated that he was asking for other reasons--other reasons being what? He was just concerned for him...er, yeah, he was an enemy...or maybe he wasn’t an enemy? Damn this was confusing, all of this was. It was just weeks ago that they were going neck to neck and nearly escaping the other’s blades on the deck of the Revenge and here they were sitting together, sharing the same meal and talking about their captains. What the hell was this night? 

Jacques didn’t get the chance to answer when Benny reached over with his free hand, the one not holding him up against the table to playfully tap Jacques’ chin up with the back of his knuckle to close his gaping mouth, trying to get his attention. “Well?” he asks in a low growl, the first mate was stunned, frozen in place and unable to think straight--uh, no pun intended--when he continued to observe this Bruce further. Finally, with his brain catching up to him Jacques mumbles out that he was wondering because he was concerned, but that just prompted Benny to laugh even louder, the same hand flying to his chest over his heart. “ _ Mon pauvre coeur, _ why are ya so anxious?” 

“You know, I have no idea what you’re saying when you talk to me like that.” Jacques finally admits he’s actually quite proud of the nearly horrified expression on Benny’s face the moment he was being blatantly honest.

“No,” Benny gasps, still sounding quite horrified. “How in da hell..? Yur name’s  _ Jacques  _ fur Fyora’ssakes!” 

“Oh really? If I didn’t know any better I woulda thought it was ‘redhead’.” the first mate states smugly, he couldn’t help the grin coming to his face when he sees the frustration on Benny’s face. Ha, got him. Also, he’s not in the mood to go through the whole spiel of his mother seeing the name ‘Jacques’ on some bottle of expensive liquor and then thinking it was the perfect name for her second child. At least that was the joke his mother had told him growing up, was it true? Who the hell knows. For the upteenth time Benny gives a short shake of his head in disbelief, commenting yet something else in Brightvalian under his breath and this time….no he still has no idea what the hell he said. “I’m glad to learn that you actually do remember my name, Benjamin.” 

“ _ Chut _ .” Benny spat, ah, that was something Jacques had recognized, ‘hush’. He only knows that from when he and Garin would be running around their small town. There was this young mother who would be working outside of her home and would start hissing the word towards them, saying it over and over when they would run by so that they could quiet down and not wake up her newborn. Okay, so maybe it paid to know a little bit of Brightvalian. Either way, Jacques snickers at the threat, not feeling in the least bit threatened when Benny looks over at him at the corner of his eye. “Ah, now yur no longer tongue-tied.” 

“What can I say? I bounce back quickly.” 

“Quickly? Tha’was quickly?” 

“Well, I’m known as Jacques the Swift after all.” 

“How swift?” Benny asks and for some reason just the way that his voice sounded sent shivers down Jacques’ back. Oh, oh something felt sort of off with that question. Maybe it wasn’t just the tone he used. Maybe it was that mischievous glance coming back to the Bruce’s eye, or the way that when he asked his eyes trailed down to...somewhere on his person and coming back up to his face to see his reaction. Jacques tried to keep his calm demeanor, the one he managed to get back after getting Benny to say his name finally. He’s pretty swift, he didn’t want to brag but he had the fastest reflexes on the seven seas. “Is tha’so?” Benny takes a peek around the tavern, eyeing the bar maidens that took their retreat upstairs, the men who were playing the with cards that were in their own little world and even the tavern keeper was still keeping his distance, distracting himself with a pretty young woman who played in the band. Jacques knew, at least, he felt that was what Benny was looking out for, was seeing where the patrons were and what they were up to. “Le’s make a bet, redhead.” he begins slowly, reaching into his sash and pulling out a small pouch rattling with the sounds of coins. “I got twenty ‘ere, it shouldn’ be a challenge fur ya t’make me cum in yur hand if ya tha’ swift.” 

“To make you...what?” Jacques asked in a low breath, did he hear that correctly? Make Benny  **_cum_ ** ? In his  _ hand _ ? He wasn’t joking, Queen Fyora above Benny the Blade wasn’t joking, as he continued to sit there jingling the pouch of coins in his palm with that oh so inviting expression on his face while Jacques tried to think quickly. A plan, a witty comeback? Yeah, that might do the trick, that should really solidify if this guy was joking or not. With a small laugh, he looks over at Benny with all the fake confidence in all of Neopia taking form on his posture and shoulders, leaning over to be mere centimeters away from the Bruce’s face when he casually states: “I mean, I  _ know  _ I can. But just how fast do you want me to do it?” In an instant Benny scoffs, his expression remaining mischievous when he doesn’t break eye contact and drops the coinpurse onto the tabletop,

“B’fore I make ya squeal.” Benny answers slyly, stretching his fingers by slowly opening and closing a fist with the very hand that held the pouch. For some reason, Jacques’ face was beginning to heat up again when he watched his hand and fingers move, okay, so the witty comeback didn’t go to plan. The poor first mate nearly had a heart attack when Benny’s hand disappeared under the table and he felt something brush against his thigh, oh dear mother of Fyora he was actually serious. “Twenty doubloons, redhead. Deal?” 

“Twenty doubloons--” Jacques begins, dropping his hand so that it can land on Benny’s, he grips it hard in warning but it did nothing but make the other pirate laugh. “--and I better be able to return to my ship unharmed.” 

“I tol’ ya I was alone but,  _ mon choute, nous avons un accord.  _ We gotta deal.” Benny states, he watches with silent glee as Jacques reaches with the same hand into his pocket and pulls out his own small coin purse, tossing it onto the table in such carelessness that it jingles loudly as it hits the table face. No one heard it over the sound of the band playing again, the men playing cards tossing their own winnings around, and no one dared to look in their direction for the source of the noise if they in fact did hear it. Jacques was actually surprised at how fast Benny had moved, the other pirate’s hand had succeeded in gliding across his inner thigh and pulling the loop of his belt enough for it to unfasten. It would be a lie to state that Jacques wasn’t nervous about this, of all people he’d think that he’d get a chance to wank off his best friend a hundred years before doing this to Benny the Blade. But he swallowed the anxious lump in his throat and dove right in, slipping his hand into Benny’s sash, though Benny was faster--even after there was a belt he had to fight with before getting his hand in Jacque’s trousers. He nearly lunged forward when Benny grabbed hold of his sheath, any further and he might have hit his head on the table it caught him by surprise. “Sorry,” Benny sneered slowly stroking him under the table and making him shiver, “did I scare ya? I though’ ya said yur fast.” 

“P-Patience is a virtue.” Jacques whispered, cursing to himself that he was getting affected this much already by Benny’s ministrations. He couldn’t allow this guy to win, he had to beat him. Finally reaching past the sash and in Benny’s trousers Jacques is surprised to feel that he was already erect, was he actually looking forward to this? Why? No, no he couldn’t think about that now. He goes on to let his fingers stroke the underside--or he assumed was the underside, he couldn’t see--of Benny’s penis, grinning slyly when Benny shudders at the gesture. Next, he grips Benny’s length and starts to pump his hand, slowly at first and then picking up the speed just enough so that he could not make too much ‘obvious movements’ under the cover of the table. 

Benny swears under his breath, his grip around Jacques’ dick getting a little harder as he’s distracted by his own pleasure but he keeps going. His strokes are slower than Jacques’, not increasing in speed but instead keeping a slow and even pattern, all the way down from his base to as high up as he could without losing his grip at the first mate’s tip. At first, it seemed like Benny was going this route on purpose as if giving a chance for Jacques to show off his ‘swiftness’ as he so claimed to have. But just as when the poor Kyrii felt that he was on top his lower stomach started to ache, his penis began to quiver and his thighs felt as though they were on fire from being so tense for so long. That fiery feeling in the pit of his stomach started to intensify, he bit his lip to fight the moan that threatened to come out, his legs and hand began to shake when Benny continued on with that seemingly dull rhythm. 

One, two, three. 

One, two, three. 

One, two---

“Fuck--!” Jacques swore, after biting his bottom lip so hard he was certain that he was tasting blood. His breathing was shallow the more that Benny was practically milking him, his hand had lost his speed while trying so hard to fight that inexplicable urge of release. The Bruce beside him was starting to sweat a little and from all the slow hissing breathes of air between his clamped beak it seemed as though he was getting close too. Eyes shut as if focusing everything on three things: breathing, his hand’s speed, and not cumming. Okay, Benny was stronger than he looked, that was for sure. Jacques leaned forward to rest his forehead on his sprawled arm to try hiding his face from the rest of the world, he needed to focus just as hard. He couldn’t let Benny win. 

Shutting his eyes tight as well Jacques took a second to rearrange the grip on Benny’s penis and then starting to pump his wrist again, slowly then quickly, slowly, then quickly. 

“Fuckin’ hell, redhead…” Benny swears under his breath, Jacques could feel that he was shaking now but so was he, they both were. Jacques tried to be funny, sputtering out ‘my name’s not redhead’ in between harsh takes of air but to his surprise, the Bruce let out a small moan after he said that, and wouldn’t you guess it? It was his name. In any sort of context, this would have been weird, okay, it probably was still weird even in this context but hearing him moan out his name like that only motivated him to hold on a little longer. Jacques pumps his hand faster, groaning softly instead of falling to the temptation of calling out the other brute’s name. Though Benny’s hand didn’t get any faster, actually, it went even slower. Instead of steadily going at three pumps a time he would bring his hand down all the way to Jacque’s base in a quick grip. Gently tightening his grip around Jacque’s penis after each hearty thrust. Then wait, bringing it quickly back up to his tip, then wait. All the way back down. Wait. All the way back up, tighter and tighter... 

Jacques’ head was spinning now, he could barely keep his breathing level or his hand at a constant speed and he pressed his head so much into his arm that he was sure his forearm was starting to bruise, Benny’s hand was holding him tightly now, barely giving him enough time or space to accommodate the ongoing pressure building up in his penis and lower stomach. With another slow, painful tight thrust Jacques whole body shook at once and he shot his load into Benny’s hand, the Bruce wasn’t too far behind him, swearing to himself in Brightvalian and dropping back into the comfort of his seat when he came. The two of them sat there together in silence for a hot second, their hands still in each other’s trousers, and Jacques couldn’t even look up from where he sat. 

He lost. 

He lost against Benny the Blade of all people. That sneaky son of a bitch and his tight fucking grip. 

“Best two out of three.” Jacques immediately states after it felt like the two of them could no longer hear the other breathing loudly, it was mostly out of habit from those instances in his past when he’d lose against Garin after a race or a spar. But here it wasn’t with his best friend and he took his title rather seriously. So this time he actually meant it: He wanted a rematch. The young Kyrii finally turns his head enough so that he could get a glimpse of Benny’s expression, feeling a little proud that the other pirate’s face was cloaked with surprise. 

“Tha’ll be fourty then.” 

“Twenty-five.” 

“Thirty.”

“I only have twenty-five in my pouch so...” Jacques insisted, it was true--sadly, his mother had raised him to never take more than you need off the ship so that was what he did. Taking enough coin out so that he could get a meal, some drinks and that was it. He was certain that Benny was going to take his winning twenty and just leave with the doubloons and the bragging right. Though Jacques doesn’t want to leave with him boasting about making him cum in his trousers first he didn’t mind if it would get him out of this strange mess. But, no, Benny looks a little conflicted, secretly balancing the pros and cons in his head before slowly and confidently nods his head. 

“Fine.” 

Shit. Okay, Jacques, you got this. 

  
  


Round two, he was certain that he got the high ground, he now knew Benny’s speed. Literally. So he goes for the spot where it hurts, the tip. Jacques had his wrist pointing up, though it was a pain to keep it upright at the strange angle he knew this wasn’t going to take long at all. Benny had gone back to his usual tactic, the slow pumps and using the slickness of Jacques’ ejaculation to aid him in gliding effortlessly over him and getting his fingers to curl on the underside of his penis. Jacques remained strong, going up to his original tactic of slow, fast, slow, fast, up until he felt the poor Bruce beside him shaking and hear his labored breathing. Now, he can carry on with his plan. With his hand angled the way it was he brought another slow stroke up to the very top of Benny’s penis, then wrapped his forefinger and thumb around his penis’ head and began to rub him, briskly. The reaction was immediate, Benny nearly jumped out of his chair and he swore desperately under his breath as his second head was getting tightly held. He couldn’t see it coming….er….pun not intended? At least, neither of them could prepare themselves fast enough for Benny’s release, when he was coming back down from his momentary high he leaned forward as well to rest his head on the table and hide his face in the crook of his arm. Jacques watched him, his chin resting on his slightly bruised forearm with a smug grin ready for when his opponent peeked over his own arm up to look him in the eyes. 

“Last round?” Jacques nearly coos, prompting a feigned laugh from Benny. 

“Yur goin’ down,  _ mon choute _ .” 

  
  


And man, did they play dirty. 

  
  


Jacques was using his usual tactic, now taking it into account that Benny was so sensitive at his tip he made sure that he took great care in circling his fingers around his hood and even letting his fingertips play with the bit of precum that was beginning to form at the top. Benny, on the other hand, he changed his grip, going as painstakingly slow as he could muster and then leaning over to nibble Jacques’ neck and collar. The first mate jolted in his seat, unable to move away from the gesture since he was still--well--in Benny’s pants, so he sat there taking it. His spine-tingling at the very sensation of Benny’s sharp beak preening his jawline and dipping into his shirt to nibble at his collarbone. 

“Th-That’s cheating.” 

“We didn’ make any rules,  _ mon choute _ .” Touche. They didn’t. 

  
  


He had no idea what in the blazing hells took over him but Jacques sat himself up as straight as he could, getting a single glimpse to make sure that, yes, no one was watching them this whole time, and then turning his head fast enough to catch Benny’s beak with his mouth. Why was he kissing him? Well, it was all about tactics, if he could distract Benny enough with the kiss and rubbing him along in all of his more sensitive areas then he’d catch him off guard enough to make him release. Piece of cake, right? Uh, not so much. Benny recovered quite quickly from the ploy, humming and moaning back into Jacques’ kiss the moment he realized just what the Kyrii was planning. 

  
  


Uh. Was it just him or was all of this kind of feeling good? 

No. No, this was a distraction taking him away from the bet. This was all part of the bet. Focus, matey, focus! 

  
  


Jacques scooted his chair closer to Benny’s leaning more into him as they kissed each other sloppily, breathed heavily in between kisses, and he continued again with trying to toy around with Benny’s tip. The Bruce shook uncontrollably but his strength was admirable, with his other hand he wrapped it around Jacques’ waist and pulled him off of the chair so that he was grinding against him, making the young pirate sit on his lap. Instead of pushing him away, however, Jacques instead leaned into him, deepening the kiss and wrapping his arms around Benny’s shoulders as he did so. But, why? Why was this feeling so natural? They were enemies, right? No. But if they weren’t enemies, what were they? 

Benny stops kissing Jacques for a moment to look down in between them, readjusting his grip and fumbling in between the slits of their rousers to pull both of their sexes out to hold them in his palm. He pressed both of their throbbing penises together in between them with another firm squeeze. Jacques couldn’t fight against the whimper in his throat as Benny started to rub them both at the same time, moaning his name into the crook of his neck, pumping them slowly in that painful but oh so addicting speed. The first mate tried running his hips into him, trying to speed up the process even though he was at risk for losing his spot on top but damn it this ‘taking it slow’ shit was killing him. Of course, Benny laughed at his attempt, whispering “Patience issa virtue” to his lips to get back at him. Damn it Benny, why the fuck were you this good?  _ How  _ the fuck were you this good? 

The slow pumps of Benny’s hand did nothing but urge the young Kyrii to go even faster, moving his hips back and forth and begging under his breath for release, it was killing him, the anticipation, the build-up, the whole damn thing. Jacques couldn’t take it anymore and he no longer cared about cuming first or last, he just wanted to fucking cum. 

Luckily for him Benny had taken his mouth again with his beak as he came, muffling the sound of his orgasmic scream with another kiss while nearly squeezing the life out of both of them. He came as well immediately afterward and the two of them--needless to say--were a mess. This time there were no trousers in the way to cover up the evidential spill left behind by their ejaculation, it instead just puddled in between them and got all over their shirts and hands. Jacques realized that they were still kissing each other even while they were shaking with the last bit of ecstasy. His arms were still around Benny’s shoulders, his hand on the back of Benny’s head, the Bruce’s hand still running slow circles at their tips even as they were finishing. “Fuck,” Benny breathed slowly once finally letting their penises go and stopping the kiss so the two of them could see each other eye to eye. That expression on his face would look like pure distaste if it was any other context, but here? It was easily seen as a hated reaction that he was impressed by all of this, “yur pretty good, redhead.” 

“You know, I enjoyed that more than I thought I would.” Jacques says, taking his time to assess the damage in between them. Thank the Faeries it was so late in the evening, with the cover of night he could easily walk to the edge of the water and jump in to get the scum off of his clothes. He just might have to do that, if anyone was still awake he could easily tell play it off that he accidentally fell into the water after leaving the bar by escaping a random patron or two. Both pirates continued to sit there in silence, not at all awkward about the position they were sitting in ironically, but more so thinking to themselves how they were planning to leave without making it look like they had the devil himself on their tails. Jacques took a peek over at their coin purses and then back at Benny, who was now resting his cheek against his palm as he continued to watch him, his free hand making circles to Jacques’ inner thigh. “So, who won this round exactly?” 

“Pretty sure t’was me s’well, but, we coul’ call it a tie n’ I coul’ grab my twenty.” Benny states raising a brow, “If ya wanna meet m’like this again.” 

Usually, Jacques would be very upfront about something like this and state a hard ‘no’, especially with the likes of someone from Scarblade’s crew. But. He found himself thinking over the offer, not because Benny was willing to call it a tie for the sake of him keeping his title as ‘the swift’ but because he didn’t necessarily hate doing this with him. Dare he says it? It was actually quite nice to sit with Benny, learning a little more about him and what life was like on The Revenge in his shoes...also yes, the handjobs weren’t so bad either. Jacques tried to shrug as casually as he could, pretending to look utterly defeated while he leaned over to grab his tied up pouch and digging through it to pull out his now lost twenty doubloons. 

“When do you want to meet?” he asks with a tired, exaggerated, defeated sounding sigh but he didn’t know that Benny could obviously see the smile that threatened to show at the corner of his lips. The Bruce proudly held his hand out to catch the coins in his palm and toss them into his own little patched up silk bag, a grin on his beak as well. 

“My crew’s stayin’ aroun’ fur a few more days, so how’s ‘bout tomorrow sound?” 

“Fine.” Jacques answered sternly, he fixes his trousers, his belt, and slowly gets up from the other pirate’s lap by holding on to the edge of the table so he won’t fall. He pulls the act of fixing his shirt, popping his open collar, fixing his sleeves and throwing his much lighter purse back into his pocket to ensure that he can balance on his own, then, he clears his throat. “Well! Good night, Benjamin. I guess we’re meeting tomorrow at the same time then?” 

“Sure, ‘s a date.” Benny answers smugly, grinning fully when he sees the flustered expression on Jacques’ face. His boisterous laugh thunders through the tavern, finally making everyone look over just in time to see an embarrassed looking red Kyrii rush out the very front of the establishment. Jacques wasted no time at all, taking the small almost hidden sandy path nearly feet away from the tavern’s entrance so that he could jog down by the beach’s shallow shores and practically throw himself into the cold water. It was definitely a good wake-up call, after being in such a small and muggy place for hours then getting caught up in whatever the hell that was. But as Jacques got out of the freezing water, wringing his shirt and trousers out while walking on the long wooden dock that led up to the Black Pawkeet he can’t help the smile that made itself known on his face the more he thought about what he and Benny did. 

Sure he might have lost, but he’ll get him next time, definitely. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
[End] 


End file.
